


Premiere Night

by write_light



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Falling In Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-01 22:50:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/write_light/pseuds/write_light
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a thin, almost unnoticeable connection between a lonely young boy with the odd name of Stilinski and the incredibly successful actor he idolizes – Derek Hale, star of the <i>Wolfmonster</i> movie series.  Stiles' fan letters to Derek are his lifeline, and they aren't going unread as he assumes – Derek needs them just as much.  With these letters, Derek gets a front-row seat to Stiles' life, and begins to fall for this honest, open friend - although he never replies.  When Hollywood finally collides with the real world – if Beacon Hills qualifies as the real world – Stiles is nowhere to be found, leaving Derek Hale, A-list movie star, to face a stressed-out sheriff alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Premiere Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AshlynHope28](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshlynHope28/gifts).



> There were some format constraints in AO3 that limited what I could do to convey the "letters" between Stiles and Derek. To see the letters displayed more as I envisioned them, read the story in PDF [HERE](https://app.box.com/s/ir6dg2et2iv1pit07q2p0yh876ndczg8). 
> 
> Warning for one possibly disturbing brief mention of suicidal thoughts (no actions).
> 
> Art (by colls@LJ) has been added!

 

 

* * *

**6 Years Earlier**

* * *

It was raining that whole week, and grew colder each day.  By Wednesday, Stiles was bundled in a long sleeve t-shirt, plaid flannel, a sweater, and a plastic raincoat so bright you could see it from the moon, and after all of that abuse, a kiss on the forehead from his mother as she dropped him off at Beacon Hills Junior High.    

As the week dragged on, Stiles became more and more excited, bouncing from room to room to find his mother and drag her to the TV to watch the trailer for _Scions of the Monster,_ first of what he hoped would become a series based on the _Wolfmonster_ books. She seemed to come more and more slowly each time, Stiles tugging at her arm as she protested that she'd _seen_ the trailer, and "yes the second trailer too," to no avail.  Nothing was going to keep Stiles from watching the movie again and again, and nothing was going to keep him from the front row of Theater 8 in the Beacon Hills Mall's multiplex on opening night.

By Friday, Stiles was talking of nothing else and got reprimanded in class for it, which shut him up for a while.  More precisely, it was Scott saying, "If you get detention, your folks won't take us to see _Wolfmonster_ " that shut him up. 

At 5:00 p.m., the first showing after school got out, Stiles and Scott were front row center, their parents gratefully several rows back. 

"Your folks are pretty cool, getting us into a PG13 movie even though he's the deputy sheriff and all," Scott said.

Stiles turned to watch them, so many rows back, as his mother settled into the seat with his father's help.

"Yeah," he said, and Scott let it go, not knowing what else to say or how to make it better, or if he could. 

The lights dimmed and Stiles was still looking back at his mother.  She smiled at him and pointed to the screen, and he relaxed and turned around.

Two hours later, he was making plans to see it again, and Scott volunteered his family to take them this time when Stiles' parents hesitated.

He and Scott piled into the back of his dad's squad car, a place usually reserved for prisoners and criminals, but tonight the family's refuge from the endless rain.

"So you liked it?" his mother asked, needlessly, because her son's face was one giant grin and he could hardly stop talking about it.

"When he burst through the wall?! Right?!"

"And then the fight on the roof of the castle!?" added Scott.

"I could totally make a jump like that!"

"What I don't get is why girls think that guy playing Harley Graywolf is so great," Scott complained.

"Derek Hale?  He was amazing!  Talk about the best Wolfmonster _ever._   Can you believe they almost gave that role to Damien McCulloch?"

It went on like this all the way home, the shorthand of friends and newly minted fans reliving a defining moment of their lives, while Stiles' mother just leaned on his father's shoulder and talked quietly to him.

***

That weekend, Stiles looked up the address of Derek Hale's agent and wrote his very first fan letter, with Scott's help.

 

> **Dear Derek Hale,**       

"No don't say that, it's not a love letter, jeez," Scott sighed.

"That's how you start letters," Stiles explained, certain that he was right.

"Just say, 'Hey there, Derek' like he's a normal guy."

Stiles crumpled up the sheet dramatically and started anew:

 

>   
>  **Hey there, Derek!**
> 
> **We loved your movie.  We saw it last night and we're going to see it again on Sunday, or maybe Monday, whenever my friend Scott's mom is off work.  It was SOOOOOO great!!!!  Our favorite part was the fight in the castle, where you jumped across that hole in the roof with the flames spewing out of it! Remember?**
> 
> **My whole family went to see your movie, and Scott came, cause he's family too.  (He just said ~Awwww~. I may have to kick him out.)  Anyway, we hope your movie makes a bunch of money and we can't wait for ' _The Dreadful Wolves_.' You'll be totally amazing in it.  **  
>    
>  **Also, was it hard to get all that wolf makeup on?  I saw a show about FX makeup and one guy said it took like eight hours.  Does it take you that long? Does it hurt?**
> 
> **Your biggest fans,**
> 
> **Stiles Stilinski and Scott McCall**
> 
> **Beacon Hills, CA**

The letter didn't get mailed until three weeks later, headed for a P.O. box in North Hollywood, and from there into a mountain of mail for the new teen superstar.

***

By Monday, going to the movies was out of the question.  Stiles' mother was so weak and his dad so worn down that the trip to the hospital was no surprise, not like the first time they'd rushed her there.  The nurses recognized Stiles immediately and gave him a comic book – a free one, designed to cash in on the _Scions_ hype, all cheap, rough paper and pale inks. On the cover was the Wolfmonster himself, seventeen-year-old formerly-unknown Derek Hale, who was getting rave reviews in the holiday season's biggest blockbuster.

Stiles was distracted by this for only a second or two - there was something different now, something about his father's face and his mother's voice, and the silent way the nurses moved around him, tousling his long hair every time they passed.  Stiles refused to leave, even when his father was called away on sheriff business.  He eventually fell asleep in the chair by the bed, his face on the comic book.

A chorus of beeps and bells roused him halfway out of a deep sleep and the nurse who'd given him the comic took him by the hand and tugged him from the room into the brightly lit hallway.  He was still half-asleep, and his father wasn't there, and they didn't let him back in for the longest time.  When they finally did, he sat in the awful silence of her room with his knees tight up against his chest until Mrs. McCall appeared before him and put her hand softly under his chin.  She was red-eyed.  Hanging behind her was Scott, out way past his bedtime and looking more confused than he ever had.

 

* * *

  **4½ Years Earlier**  


* * *

 

> **Hey Derek Hale,**

 

> **I know you're busy and get tons of letters.  I've been busy too, taking care of my Dad since Mom died like a year and a half ago. I come home and watch WM on DVD almost every afternoon while I make us dinner.  I can't wait for the next movie. Dad promised to go with me, and Scott's probably going to come too.  Also, I saved up and got the blu-rays and your interviews were cool. You are really normal for an actor, and smart and funny.**
> 
> **Now the bad news.  I dressed up as your character on Halloween.  Apparently not everyone at Beacon Hills Junior High knows who Harley Graywolf is.  I maybe got a little rude with Tony Callum for laughing at my fangs and got a bloody nose out of it, but it made my makeup look SICK, tbh.  Even Scott thought it was my idea to have blood running down my face. I hate everything about junior high (except Scott).**
> 
> **Your biggest fan in Beacon Hills,**
> 
> **Stiles Stilinski**

***

Derek was immobilized with fear at what was coming next.  And yet, he could feel the laugh building; there was no stopping it.  He tried not to read Stiles' letter again, even tried shutting his eyes tightly, but that made it worse.  He could see the whole scene – some 14-year-old kid in homemade _Wolfmonster_ werewolf makeup getting into a fight over _him_ , getting his ass kicked, and coming out looking even better.

He fought against the chuckles.  The makeup artist, Dee, would be so angry, the director would be so angry, but that very predicament, like a funeral, only made the laugh more inevitable.  The first snort escaped, followed by a gasp and a huge grin.  The makeup slipped, he could feel it.  He tried hard not to laugh.

"Derek!" Dee scolded, dashing back to his chair to press down the edges of the cheek ridge. She slapped his hand away when he tried to help.  "You mess this up, we'll be here another half hour and miss call."

"Sorry, Dee.  Just read this letter."

"What is this, fan mail?"

"This kid's been writing since my first movie.  He's sent me about five letters now."

Dee laughed, too, as she read, and it made Derek laugh again.

"You stop.  You're pulling it all crooked," she scolded.  "You're terrible."

"He says he lost his mom a year ago," Derek added.

"What?  Let me see," she said, tugging the note back.

"About two years older than I was when my mom died," Derek said softly after she read the rest of it.

"Is it any better if you lose her earlier or later?" Dee asked bluntly.

"The longer you have your mom, the more it hurts; the younger you are, the worse it seems.  There's probably a point where they even out, but… I still miss her."

"Oh honey, now you're gonna cry in the eye makeup.  Not here, not now.  Lemme fix it."

They were a half-hour late.  The director was not pleased, but at least Harley Graywolf looked terrifying on film.

 

* * *

  **3 Years Earlier**  


* * *

 

Stiles got a vacation from Beacon Hills when his dad took an unexpected break from work – a break that lasted nearly a month.

They spent it on a road trip to LA.  Along the way, they visited anything Stiles wanted to visit, as if time didn't matter at all.  At the Mystery Spot, Stiles took pride in explaining away the "mysteries" of it all until he saw that his dad was kind of enjoying the mystery. 

In a motel room in Solvang one night, Stiles was scrolling through his email; he had two messages from Scott asking about whether they were still going to see _The Dreadful Wolves_ when Stiles got back.  Between them was a message from Wolfmonster Online about the Hollywood premiere and party. 

"Holy sh-!  Dad!  They're premiering it in LA in two days and we'll be there tomorrow!  Can we go? Please? PLEASE?  And Derek Hale's going to be there in person oh my GOD!"

Sheriff Stilinski flinched under the sudden attack, but had the presence of mind to ask "What premiere, Stiles?"

 _The Dreadful Wolves_!" Stiles said, too loud for the tiny room and his father's headache as he bounced up onto his knees on the bed.  "It's at the –" and he scrolled quickly to find the name – "Wilshire Orpheum! On Wilshire Boulevard, which makes sense-"

"It's a premiere, son, there'll be hundreds of people there-"  
  
"Hundreds plus us!"  
  
"People with tickets, Stiles.  And proper clothes, and all of them in front of you.  You're not the tallest person in LA, by far.  What makes you think you'll even see this Derek guy?"

"I'll grow!  But this is really soon – if we go there tomorrow, we can get in line and get tickets and camp out!"

The sheriff pressed the cold washcloth over his eyes as he lay back against the headboard.

"Dad, c'mon!  _The new Wolfmonster movie._ Derek Hale _in person._ "

"Stiles, not right now.  I can't even think straight.  Just watch some TV and we'll talk about it in the morning, okay?"  
  
"Dad, we're so close-"  
  
"Son, please."  His voice was perilously close to running out of patience.  "You shouldn't be obsessed with these Hollywood types – they're not like you and me.  They have different lives; it's a different world they live in.  This Derek Hale – he's not like the character he plays – he can't turn into a wolf, he can't jump off buildings and survive - no one can."  
  
"Dad, I'm fifteen, I know movies aren't real."

"Celebrities are just ordinary people, not magic. People like us, Stiles," his father added, regretting it immediately.

"So - are they 'weird Hollywood types' or are they 'just like us'?" Stiles asked, the illogic of his father's argument not sitting well with him.  He could feel Derek Hale slipping away.

"End of discussion, Stiles."

***

The mood of the trip soured as it became clear they weren't going to be in Hollywood for the premiere, or to see Derek Hale on the red carpet, even from a distance.  

San Diego was less than exciting, and not even the zoo could get Stiles out of his funk.  Finally, they headed for Disneyland, and there, briefly, things got better. 

Stiles had his arm around his dad, worn out from the long, long day they'd spent in line after line and now heading unwillingly toward the parking lot with the rest of the crowd.  Sheriff Stilinski put his arm around his son and pulled him in tight so as not to lose him.

"Sorry about the movie premiere."  
  
"It's okay, dad.  I'll see the movie with Scott when we get home."

"Or we could see it tomorrow, just you and me, at that same theater?" his dad asked, looking down at his son's face, lit by the warm lights of Main Street U.S.A. 

"Are you serious?  Scott would be so jealous – we'd better not.  Oh! I forgot to get him something.  We have to get him something!"

He grabbed his father's hand and tugged mightily as he threaded his way against the flow of the crowd, weaving his way toward the souvenir shop until his father was forced to let go of his grip before they hit someone.

"Stiles!"

His son's haircut, still so severely short it was painful to see, was thankfully very easy to spot in a crowd.  He watched Stiles disappear behind a cloud of Mickey and Minnie balloons. 

***

When his dad caught up, Stiles was in front of a display of huge door-size posters of characters from the new _Wolfmonster_ movie - Kayla Weers, Harley Graywolf, and Hector Cavalia.  Stiles was staring up at a larger-than-life Derek Hale, his eyes darting all over the image.

"Is that Derek Graywolf?" his father asked with the casual ignorance Stiles had come to expect from all parents and teachers.  Stiles sighed dramatically.

"Derek _Hale_ , Dad.  He plays Harley Graywolf.  That's his rival alpha, Kayla Weers - that's the _character's_ name," he added and his father feigned appreciation.  "The other guy is the hunter, Hector, the one who wants to kill all the wolves.  He started the whole Wolfmonster legend, but they're totally not monsters."  
  
"That Kayla looks like she needs a larger outfit," the sheriff observed.

"Uh, yeah, I guess," Stiles said, intensely uncomfortable for reasons he couldn't explain.  

He was staring at the torn shirt on the man next to Kayla, drawn to the skin showing beneath the claw marks.

"I'll get one of her for Scott. He'll like it."

"Aren't _you_ going to get one?"  
  
"Oh, one of these," Stiles said vaguely, gesturing to some point between the Derek poster and the Hector poster. 

"Hurry before they close up shop then."

Stiles grabbed two posters casually, but he knew exactly which ones he'd chosen.  He unrolled the Derek poster the next morning while his dad was in the shower.  He wondered if the muscles were real or airbrushed.  He wondered about a lot of things that caught his eye, but rolled up the poster quickly when he heard the shower shut off and packed it carefully for the long drive home.

***

Junior high was still the same hell he'd remembered it was, pimples and hormones and half the people thinking he could get his dad to do anything to help them if they screwed up, the other half thinking he was a huge narc who told on them every day after school. 

To make matters worse, Scott didn't like the next movie as much.  They quarreled about the book vs. the movie, about whether Derek Hale was a good actor or a great actor, about whether the next movie could (or should) stay true to the book when so much had been changed already.

Scott clearly appreciated the scantily clad Kayla, and Stiles feigned agreement.  He didn't tell Scott that he found Derek a lot more interesting in a lot of different ways, but the poster had gone up on his bedroom wall the night he got back into town. 

***

"You didn't get one of Kayla Weers?" his dad asked him a few weeks later, not sure what answer he might get. 

"Um, well, I can see that one when I'm over at Scott's.  I kind of like Derek- Derek Hale's character, Graywolf.  He's cool.  You know."

"He's certainly tough-looking," his father added.

"Yeah, I'd like to be that tough.  Kinda scrawny here, you know."

"You'll grow into it soon enough, Stiles.  Enjoy being a kid."

"I'm not a – " He stopped there, seeing the look on his dad's face.  "I'm not going be a kid forever."

His father stood in the doorway, looking at him with a sad expression. 

"Doesn't mean I'll change.  I'll still be your son."

They left it at that, each filling in imagined conversations they didn't want to have then or there.

***

The weather was oddly sunny when the third anniversary of his mother's death came around - offensively cheerful, Stiles thought.  He didn't know how to fix all the things that were going wrong and he really didn't know what to think about the steadily growing collection of Derek Hale pictures on his computer, especially the shirtless ones, and the videos he'd saved of behind-the-scenes visits where Derek was both charmingly normal and utterly unreachable.  His letters remained unanswered after all these years, but he kept writing.  When his father started drinking again, it was more than he could handle. 

Stiles spent the day writing to get the thoughts out of his head, because the grief counselor had said to talk about the pain and the loss.  He said what he needed to say in an unaddressed email and was nearly done when he heard his father drop a glass in the kitchen.  He listened for the one and only swear word his father ever used, and instead heard crying.  He dumped the note in the trash and ran to the kitchen.

 

> **Derek,**
> 
> **I don't even know you so don't take this wrong.  It's just easier to talk to someone who isn't here and doesn't know me and won't judge.**
> 
> **I don't think I can keep going.  My mom's been gone so long now and it still hurts.  Scott's folks split up but he's still got them both, even if he hates his dad.  My dad – he's so lonely.  He works all the time, got sick from it even, and took time off to spend with me because he thought I'd cheer him up.  That didn't work so well.  Now he drinks all the time.  He would miss me I think, but he could at least stop worrying about me and all the crap in my life on top of his work and Mom.**
> 
> **I have some kind of thing for Harley Graywolf maybe, or I don't know, both of you, and I just can't be gay or bi or whatever this is.  Sorry if this grosses you out, but... There's a kid at school who's bi, but he's like, cute and popular.  Coming out is easier when you're a big jock.**
> 
> **I don't have anyone else to talk to.  Scott and I kind of stopped talking after he dissed your last movie.  We're still friends, but I'm not sure he'd miss me all that much either.  Please make more movies.  They're the only thing I look forward to.**
> 
> **So you won't get any more letters from me, but don't worry.  I'm just making everyone's life easier by not being here.**
> 
> **Gotta go, my dad dropped something. I think he's crying. SHIT SHIT SHIT**

***

A few weeks later, Stiles remembered the letter and that it was still on his computer - the one his dad was taking in to get repaired.  He dashed upstairs to find his father poking around the hard drive files.

"Dad?"

"This thing is a mess.  How do you find anything?" 

"I have a- uh a system.  Can I just get on there and make sure I saved my research paper first? 

The sheriff kept clicking on folders until one disgorged a subfolder marked "DH."

"Dad, like, now?"  
  
"Thing's full of viruses.  Look at these folders inside folders with random names.  It's going into the shop today."

"Dad, let me just- why don't you go lie down on the couch?  Can I just-?"

Stiles kicked the plug loose as unobtrusively as possible.

"Damn thing crashes now too!"

"Dad, let me deal with this," he said, trying for stern but not quite pulling it off.

***

Scott came by later that afternoon to find Stiles stuffing the laptop into his backpack.  Stiles blushed. 

"What awful secrets are you disposing of?" Scott asked, smiling.

"Um, this? Nothing.  Just a memory wipe.  So what's up?"

"You wanna know how they're gonna do the third book?" Scott asked, grinning.

"Yeah?" Stiles shrugged impatiently. 

"Two. Movies."

"YES!" Stiles yelled, and things got better from that moment on.

***

 

* * *

  **1½ Years Earlier**

* * *

 

> **To: Derek Hale c/o Sequence Mgmt.**

> **P. O. Box 340-1602**
> 
> **North Hollywood, CA, 91602**
> 
> **Dear Derek,**
> 
> **I cannot wait - _Mouth of the Beast_ is going to be the best one yet.  SO EXCITED they're making two movies for you to do!  Please tell me you filmed the tomb scene – I can't find any hints about it online. You seem really dedicated to being a great actor and I hear you're nice to the other actors on set.  It's cool seeing how close you all are in the Instagram pics you post. Also, thank you for the commentary you did on the DVDs of _Dreadful Wolves_.   I knew there was more to that scene where your wolf-brothers were killed.**
> 
> **I'm almost seventeen and just got my driver's license – my Dad says I can drive the jeep places besides just school and back.  If you could maybe have a contest where fans can compete to get the premiere in their hometown, that would be awesome, just sayin'.  Because there's no way he's letting me drive all the way to LA again.  I missed the last premiere when he wouldn't let me go.  Says celebrities are, well… he _means_ well.  He might not like you that much, is all.**
> 
> **I don't know if you got any of those letters I wrote back when I was younger, like 12 and 13? I'm sure they were really dumb.  Now that I'm grown up, I want to tell you what your movies mean to me.**

"Oh I got them, Stiles, read every one," Derek said, just as a knock came at the door. His assistant, Michele, was waiting on his doorstep with a box behind her back.

"Hey 'chele. C'mon in."

"I brought you pizza," she said enticingly.

"I can't- my trainers will kill me for sure."

"One slice, Derek."

"One," he grinned, taking two large slices and stuffing them into his mouth.

"One?" she laughed.

"It's one," he said around the slice.  "See?  They didn't cut it all the way through." 

He tried to take the pizza box from her hand but she took it right back, with a knowing tilt of her head.

 "What are you reading?" she asked.  "They didn't send over more script changes, did they?"

"It's that kid from Beacon Hills again.  What do you think – can I write him a note?"

"Hell no, are you crazy? The studio is very clear about talent putting anything out there that isn't filtered and pre-approved.  You know this, Derek – you've made three movies for them."

"I just want to let him know I'm getting his stuff.  I know what it's like to put yourself out there and never know if anyone cares."  
  
"You _care_ for him?"

"I didn't say- You know, yeah, I do.  I care for him.  He's a fan, a big fan, my first."

His voice was higher now, emotional.

"Sorry.  I didn't know he meant that much," Michele apologized, her tone softer.  "We'll send him the deluxe packet.  It's got your picture, your autograph, bunch of swag - he'll love it."

"Those are so impersonal. He deserves-"

"He's a fan, Derek.  He's getting an autographed pic, which now goes for over $300 on ebay, in case you weren't checking up on it yourself."

Derek savored the last of the pizza slice and agreed, finally, that they would send the best packet they had.

"Now we need to go over the interview schedule for next month."

"You know, I really have to go work this off," he said, patting his stomach but really just wanting to get back to Stiles' letter.  "Can we talk about scheduling tomorrow?"

"I drove all the way over here, we could at least- Does your body even store fat? Ugh.  Okay, I'll come by tomorrow afternoon.  If that kid knew what a jackass you are sometimes…"

"Only you get to know that, 'chele," Derek replied, squeezing her hand as she left.  "Keep it our little secret, okay?"

He closed the door and grabbed up Stiles' letter again, licking every trace of pizza off his fingers.

 

> **Now that I'm grown up, I want to tell you what your movies mean to me.**
> 
> **Things have been really hard for my dad since my Mom died.  But he still talks about the time we went to see the first _Wolfmonster_ , even though it was the same weekend that she died.  She liked it - she told me.  She thought you were really cute. **
> 
> **And then the next movie, my dad and I and my friend Scott saw.  That was just before some stuff happened to Scott, some really ironic stuff considering how he didn't like that movie and thought the werewolves were kinda fake-looking.**
> 
> **The next movie I really hope is as good as the last one.  Maybe you could premiere it here in Beacon Hills? HA HA :D**
> 
> **Anyway, your movies got me through some bad times.  I wrote you a whole letter about how I was starting to feel like killing myself, but I never sent it, and I just kept going, and…watching your movies, and I don't know you at all and I don't want to sound like some crazy fan, so I won't go into pages and pages of detail, but you're my favorite actor.  Ever.  I hope I can meet you at a convention some day.  You're amazing and talented and cute.  I mean that.**
> 
> **Your fan,**
> 
> **Stiles Stilinski**

***

Out of the blue, a FedEx package arrived for Stiles, a treasure chest of Wolfmonster promotional materials, special DVDs, stickers and other merchandise.  He tore through it, trying to take in his amazing good fortune when a glossy 8x10 of Derek Hale slid from the pile.  He grabbed it and left a big thumbprint across Derek's chin, but as much ruin as that implied, he still had a signed picture.  He turned it over a few times and searched the rest of the contents before realizing it was the studio's doing, not Derek's. 

He kept the picture on the wall above his desk but got _nothing_ done when it was there, so he moved it to the inside of his closet door where he could look at it every morning.

***

In mid-June, the icy air conditioning of the nearly-empty theater made Stiles shiver.  He was dressed for the heat wave outside, and now had goosebumps all up and down his arms.  The crowds of Memorial Day were gone, _Wolfmonster's_ number one slot on opening weekend a distant memory as _Unbound_ slipped below number three - beaten out by a gory slasher film and the new Bond movie.   It didn't matter – Stiles had seen the movie four times already, mainly to watch Derek Hale be resurrected after his shocking death in _Blood Moon._

Each time, he stared up at Derek Hale's face, fifteen feet tall on the screen in front of him, hazel eyes and dark stubble that just made him ache.  The first time, he'd scowled at the newbie fans behind him who spoke ill of _Blood Moon,_ and of Derek's death scene.  The second time he'd gone with Scott and Allison - a bad idea because they kept kissing loudly. The third time he decided to see the 3D version and spilled half his popcorn and most of his drink when Derek's claws swept out _right at him._

The fourth time he had Scott by his side again, alone, just Scott, the brother he'd never had.  After the movie, they had a long talk about why Stiles moaned when Derek ripped off his blood-soaked shirt.  ("It was moaning, loud and clear, so spill," Scott put it.)  It was a good talk, but it made Stiles' face blaze hot, and he pointed out to Scott this whatever-it-was that he felt about Derek Hale was at least more socially acceptable than Scott's full-moon freakouts.  

Now, his fifth viewing, he was able to watch without distraction.  The chill of the theater vanished completely from his mind and he was in the movie with Harley Graywolf, lost to infatuation.

***

A week later, Stiles was searching for Derek Hale videos, about the easiest thing in the world to find, when he came across an interview he hadn't seen yet.  Derek looked fantastic, he thought, and was talking animatedly about his fans:

"Making a series like this is every actor's dream. There's some fan craziness to deal with along the way, sure, but there are so many great fans out there who support the movies and support us.  I get the occasional fan letter sent over by my publicist, something she thinks I should see, and you realize the enormous effect you can have on people's lives. I had this letter just a while ago, some kid who lost his mom, said watching the films took him and his family away from all that."

"That's got to make your day," replied the interviewer.

Stiles ticked the volume up.

"It does, it totally does!  He was so honest about how he felt, and how he liked my character, which is flattering of course, but… I don't know.  He touched me.  If you're out there watching this, thanks, and I'll see what I can do about getting the premiere in your town."

The rest of the interview was a sort of distant hiss, barely audible, even though his eyes never left Derek's face.  When the interview ended, Stiles replayed it.  He stopped the video right after Derek said "He touched me" and stared at the frozen image of a man looking right through the camera, a big smile on his face.  Stiles blinked, finally, and then replayed it.  He watched it about five times in all before he sent the link to Scott.

 

 

* * *

  **Present Day, June**  


* * *

 

"Derek, you decent?" Michele asked as she knocked on Derek's trailer door.

"Am I ever? Come in already!"

It was his familiar voice, soft and sweet, so unlike the 'Graywolf growl'.  She stepped in to drop off mail for her favorite client.  Derek was wearing a towel and flipflops. 

"Christ you said you were decent!" she flinched, covering her eyes.

"Technically, I asked a rhetorical question that you knew the answer to.  Besides, if you want me dressed, tell them to fix the AC."

"They're doing all the trailers tomorrow, they swear."

"So what brings you here then?  More pictures to sign?"

"Just a few hundred, and some fan mail, and two pages of script changes that I grabbed from Jess and said I'd bring to you." She dumped these on his table. "There's another letter from that kid that wrote you about his mom.  He sent a picture this time."  
  
"A _picture_?" Derek was suddenly interested, forgetting the script pages onto the table, and grabbing the letter from Michele's hand.

"Derek!  You don't even know him."

"Yeah, but he's not crazy, he's – wow.  Not bad.  Kinda cute, don't you think?"

Michele looked at the picture dubiously. 

"Harmless - maybe.  Not my type.  What kind of name is that anyway, 'Stiles'?"

"A funny one. I like it.  He's sweet."

"You don't know that from some letters."

"But I _do_.  He's been writing me since he was like, 12."

"And he's-"

"Over 18, yes.  I think.  Or 17 and a bunch. You have a really dirty mind."

"It's my job to look out for your career, Derek.  Don't even think about falling for a nobody with a crush on you."

"'chele, he's a good kid.  Dad's a sheriff, mom's dead, his teachers are evil, his best friend has some kind of mental illness – he's had a rough life, you know?"

"Mental illness?" she questioned, one eyebrow rising.

"Yeah, he wasn't really clear on that.  Besides, he's way up in Northern California.  It's not like he's going to show up at my door."

"Is this why you were asking about contests and stuff?  The special sneak previews?"

"Can you get Morty and Jess on board with that?  Stiles said he wanted a premiere in his hometown – what if we had a competition for – I don't know – most money raised for my charity?" 

"Derek, that is such a terrible idea. I say that as a friend, now.  Do NOT get this involved with a fan.  Learn your new lines, call is at 2 pm, that gives you an hour, plus the three in makeup. I gotta go."

"Bye…"

"No more fan letters for you!" Michele called back as the door slammed shut.

Derek sat down and read Stiles' letter twice, sliding the picture around with his fingers as he read.  All he could see was a smiling man who liked him, and had liked him for the last five years.  When his phone buzzed, he folded the letter up and put it into a book he carried to every movie set.  It had a few photos of family and friends, some good reviews and one devastating one from the _Times_ , and his first fan letter, from Stiles Stilinski and Scott McCall of Beacon Hills, CA, way back when he wasn't Derek Hale, Movie Star.  He stuck Stiles' latest letter in there with the others.

His phone buzzed again, and he grabbed the script changes and headed to the makeup chair to get 'wolfed out.'

***

The next letter came almost six months later during final filming of _Wolfmonster Unbound._ It more than made up for the lousy week he'd had.

 

> **Derek,**
> 
> **_Mouth of the Beast_ was AWESOME!  We all went to see it the night before our graduation trip.  Scott thinks the series has 'lost focus,' whatever that means.  I think he's just pissed that I'm going to school so far away.  I guess I won't be getting that premiere I wished for, but I'm going to go see you in whatever you do next.  Congrats on the Saturn and the People's Choice awards, you totally deserve them. **
> 
> **For now, I'm heading out to Chicago to do a summer internship and then I start college this fall.  I got into Creeley University, which was my total longshot school, I still can't believe it.  I think Dad's a lot freaked out at how much money it costs, but this internship will pay for a semester and I've got a scholarship.**
> 
> **Oh, and I'm gay.  I think some things will change now that I'm out to my friends- still gotta tell Dad.  And find myself an actual boyfriend.  Hope you're cool with all that.  I wish I knew if you'd gotten these letters, but probably not, so in case your personal assistant reads them for you – GIVE THIS TO DEREK!**
> 
> **I'll meet you one of these days.  (Not a stalker, Mr/Ms. Personal Assistant Mail Reader)**
> 
> **Stiles**

Derek flipped the letter over to see if there was more – an address, a date, anything.  He called up Michele, but she was no help. 

"I don't keep the envelopes, Derek, we just scan the letters, note whatever's inside, and toss the rest.  I pulled this one as a favor for my best client ever, but – you know what, now that I'm talking about it, it _was_ from the beginning of summer.  I had it in the files when we moved to the La Cienega offices and I only dug it out a few days ago. "

"Go back in your files and get me his address."

"Why, so you can write him back?  Not a chance."

"'chele, just trust me, I know what I'm doing.  He's not like the other ones.  I've read some of the other ones.  They get over it, they move on."

"And he hasn't?  That's red flag number one."

"His dad is the sheriff.  How dangerous could he be?"

"Have you seen the murder rate in Beacon Hills?  That monster video that went viral last summer? That was taken there."  
  
"Did you investigate Stiles?" Derek asked, disbelief changing to certainty even as he asked.  "Of course you did.  Look, that video was obviously faked.  There are no werewolves, and if he believed there were, I'd agree he's weird, but-"

"I had to investigate, so we could have the premiere there."

"-he doesn’t even talk about wolves- you _what_?  You _did_!? " His voice was filled with excitement. "'Chele, I love you!"

"Yeah, well, thanks, but the suits figured the local werewolf angle was a good enough tie in that they could get some free publicity by having the premiere there.  They aren't happy that it's so far away, but it's a go."

"Look, just get me his address, please. If he's still there, I can contact him. – Sorry, look, Jess is here, I gotta go."

***

Jess was giving Derek a squinty look, somewhere between worry and exasperation - not something Derek ever wanted to see on his producer's face.

"Tell me you were not just planning to go rogue and start visiting your fans."

"No-"  
  
"Is this why you wanted the movie premiere moved?  Because if it wasn't for charity, just for your personal kicks, the studio will shut it down in a heartbeat.  Listen, before you say what you're clearly dying to say, let me give you some advice.  Stalkers can't be encouraged. And frankly, we don't need the hassle.  Two words: Visits equal liability nightmare.  Check your contract on that."

"Two more words: Homo = End of career," he added patronizingly. "That one is up to you, what with this being the last film, but I'd rather get out of this clean, you know?  No offense with what you do on your own and all, it's all the rage to come out today, but the tabloids are already circling Hollywood's most eligible bachelor; they can smell the gay in the water.  Best you could hope for is that _People_ wants to give you the cover, but you go visit some twink in his hometown and you won't even get that.  And think about what it would do to _him_."

Derek was too busy channeling his anger into a mental checklist to respond - a series of career decisions including never working for Jess again and what he'd wear for the cover of the _Advocate_ when he and Stiles gave them the exclusive.

"Message received," Derek said quietly through his teeth.  _Asshole._

* * *

  **Present Day, November**  


* * *

 

A letter arrived at the Stilinski household in mid-October, delayed by the lack of clear information on the envelope – Derek had written only "Stiles Stilinski, Beacon Hills, CA" and prayed it would arrive.  Fortunately, the postal clerk knew the sheriff and his son well and sent it along. 

It was discovered by accident late one Sunday as the sheriff was decorating his front porch for Halloween, something he still did, despite the real horrors that haunted his town.  If anything, the YouTube video of a wolf-like monster in the woods had brought in greater Halloween tourism.  He set the letter aside with some other stuff he needed to mail to Stiles at college, and returned to decorating.

***

By mid-November, Stiles was buried under 18 units of unrelenting college coursework, second-guessing himself and his choice of a top-level university like Creeley, and missing his father and Scott badly.   His father's monthly care package arrived with a note wishing he could come home for Thanksgiving and a large tin of cookies that Stiles and his roommates all but inhaled.  It was Gus who found the letter at the bottom of the box as he searched for more cookies.

"Dude, your dad sent you a letter!"  He waved it at Stiles.

"No… That's not his handwriting- Who sent this?"  Stiles flipped it over twice. "There's no return address.  Didn't even write _my_ address – look at this: 'Stiles Stilinski – Beacon Hills'. Who does that?" 

"Like you're some famous movie star!" Gus laughed.  "Tell you dad to send these cookies every week, okay?"

Stiles looked at the letter.   It was postmarked July 23rd.  He opened it and found a folded yellow page with what he quickly realized was _Wolfmonster_ dialogue.  He read it from top to bottom, a short scene with Derek's character that he'd never seen in any movie.  He turned it over, expecting more, and saw only a few short paragraphs in loose, all-caps handwriting. 

 

> **Hey Stiles,**
> 
> **I'm probably the last person you ever expected to hear from, but I wanted to let you know that I've gotten your letters, or most of them, I think.  My agency is a little protective of me and, well, I hope I didn't miss any of them because they mean a lot.  Your first letter was my first fan letter, ever.  I still have it.**
> 
> **I think you're probably off at Creeley now, but we're going to premiere _Unbound_ the week before Thanksgiving, and let me be the first to tell you the good news ---**

His eyes were already at the end, taking in the name: DEREK HALE.  He folded the letter and gripped it tightly as he dashed out of the dorm room, looking for any place he could be alone.  Outside would be good, he thought.  
  
"Dude?" Gus called from behind.  "We have eight chapters left."

"Be right back," Stiles yelled and ran at the stairs, taking the steps down six at a time as he gripped the railing with one hand and Derek's letter with the other.  He was blazing with excitement.

***

Stiles leaned against the wall in the twilight, holding the letter up to the light streaming from the dorm windows behind him.  He read it very slowly, still not sure it was real.

 

> **let me be the first to tell you the good news ---**
> 
> **We're coming to Beacon Hills to have the premiere – the whole cast and a bunch of the crew, at the Multiplex – they're going to screen it in all 8 theaters that day!  Sorry, that's the Friday before Thanksgiving, November 15.**
> 
> **After all the letters you sent, I want to meet you in person.  I think we have a lot in common.  I really hope this gets to you-**

"What day is it?!" Stiles yelled, and he kept yelling this, all the way up the stairwell and back into his room.  "What day is it?!"

"It's the 13th, why?"

"WHY? Because my life is over.  Why did I not get an email alert about this premiere?  Why did I stop reading magazines and the Internet?  I should KNOW this stuff!"

"What's he talking about?" asked Jae.

"Not a clue," said Gus, starting to worry. 

"I have to get home!" Stiles interrupted, dashing for the closet to dig out his suitcase.

"You can't go home now," Jae complained. "You're the smartest one in our group."  
  
"Guys, shut up and help me.  Gus, get me a ticket home.  Jae, help me pack.  You can email me the study questions and I'll write back."  
  
"From the plane?"

"Wait wait wait what the hell is going on, Stiles? Stop vibrating.  Is it your dad?" Gus asked, concerned.

" _Wolfmonster Unbound_.  Premiere.  MY TOWN.  TWO DAYS.  Now do you get it?"

"Our exam is in two days," Jae said matter-of-factly.

"So?" Stiles said frantically as he tossed clothes at Jae.

"And you want to pop home for a movie premiere?"

" _Wolfmonster_ , dude, the last frikkin' one.  DEREK HALE.  He invited me."  
  
"He did not," Gus said, but his laugh was choked by the look Stiles gave him.

"Yeah, okay,…Well the storm today closed everything, and tomorrow's flights are sold out.  Shall I see what trans-dimensional portals cost between here and California?"

 

> **After all the letters you sent, I want to meet you in person.  I think we have a lot in common.  I really do hope this gets to you before it's too late. They never keep the envelopes and all I had was your name, so...**
> 
> **Anyway, I have to get to the studio to do some looping and some promo shots today.  I'll send you some pics if you want. Write me back, okay, or email me or call me. I put one of my cards in.  That's my private number.**
> 
> **Your friend,**
> 
> **Derek Hale**

"What card?" 

Stiles shook the letter and the envelope, turned his pockets inside out, and nearly tossed his dorm room looking for a card that wasn't there.

"Derek, you dumbass, you forgot to put the card in!  Arrrrgggh!  Why do I have a crush on a big stupid guy?"

"You have a what?" Gus asked.

"It's not you, Gus, chill.  Yeah, so 'hey guys, I'm out of the closet'," Stiles said, back to his normal volume and maybe a little lower on the last part

***

Thirty panicked minutes later, his roommates seemed to have grasped the urgency of it all, and Gus came up with a complicated plan involving a bus ride south, a flight with two stops before it got to San Francisco, and another bus north. 

"If it works out, you'll be there about 5 a.m. the day of the premiere.  If not, you'll get there about dinnertime," he explained.

Stiles gave him an exasperated look when he said "5 a.m." and slumped in despair at "dinnertime".

"But you have to leave now.  The bus comes through town in three hours and you have to be on it – it's your only chance," Jae added, caught up in Stiles' "romantic adventure," as he called it.

The bus, as it turned out, was running an hour late, and Stiles stood on the platform the entire time, waiting and freezing.  His fingers were too stiff to work the phone, and the phone eventually gave up when the battery got too cold. 

Some vigorous rubbing and holding the phone over the heating grate on the bus restored enough life for him to download the plane tickets and see the battery bar turn from red to flashing red.

  
"Shit!" he said, quickly apologizing to the elderly woman next to him.

  
***

The TSA line was astonishingly long for a midnight departure, but he made the flight with ten minutes to spare.  He very much wanted to sleep but the note was burning a hole in his pocket.  He took it out and read it again.  He was going to wake up in his dorm room, he just knew it.   _Any minute now._

"How do you tell if you're in a dream?" he said out loud, and the man in the next seat gave him a worried look.

"Just talking to – myself," he said, his voice fading. 

In the seat pocket of the worried man was a copy of the _Los Angeles Times_ from that morning.  Stiles could see a shock of black hair and two eyebrows above the edge of the pocket, but that was all he needed to know it was Derek.  He stared at it as drinks were served; he plotted as the lights were turned down; he whimpered when the man reclined and his knees pinned the newspaper in place.  Finally, he threw caution to the wind and tugged the paper, instantly feigning sleep as the man sat upright.  When he settled again, the paper was undefended.  Stiles withdrew it slowly and silently, and switched on the overhead light. 

The awful facts of the premiere in Beacon Hills, the unbelievable luck of Derek _in his hometown_ , the utter unfairness of the universe towards Stiles Stilinski at every turn - it was all there in a tiny cone of light on a darkened plane headed the wrong direction.

***

 

* * *

**Premiere Day**

* * *

   
Derek stared at the simple two-story house he was standing in front of.  It looked a lot like the one he'd grown up in – the one he had to leave when his mom died and his father couldn't keep up the payments alone.  Derek's throat was dry with anxiety.  He went up to the porch as bravely as he could and knocked.  He tried to swallow and couldn't, coughing sharply instead.  He tidied himself and knocked again. 

No one answered.  Derek stepped back and looked up at the windows and then headed back up the steps to ring the doorbell. 

"No one's home," came a man's voice from behind Derek and he whirled around.

"Stile-  Sheriff Stilinski?"

"Derek Hale, I presume."

  
"Your badge.  It was an easy guess."

"And you look just like the poster that's been on my son's wall for the last three years."

  
Derek blushed, realizing he hadn't gotten _every_ important detail from Stiles' letters. He was unsure of what to say next.

"I'm here for the premiere-"

  
"I know.  I've got every available officer staffing the theater and your studio liaison is a prick."

"Joey.  Yeah, he _is_ a prick."

The sheriff seemed pleasantly surprised that Derek wasn't a prick, and smiled. 

"Is your son here?" Derek ventured hopefully. "Or is he still at Creeley?"

"Stiles?  How do you know about him?"

"He's written me a lot of fan mail.  It was his idea to have the premiere here.  I invited him but he never replied."

"Never told me this was his idea…. " the Sheriff said to himself.  "He's been in Chicago since June and I sent him every letter I got.  Don't recall one from a celebrity."

 "Can you call him, sir?" Derek asked, realizing his half-assed addressing of the envelope had ruined Stiles' chance of seeing his dream come true.

"I can try – but he'd never get a flight out here in time, and we can't exactly afford a private jet on top of the tuition I already pay-"

"I'll pay," Derek said instantly. "Can you please call him?"

The sheriff studied him for a long time, wondering at his urgent interest in Stiles, and what the fan mail was really about. He took out his phone and dialed Stiles' number, looking anxiously at Derek every few seconds. 

Derek waited, one foot on the porch, one foot off, unable to move.

"No answer.  He's probably studying."

***

Somewhere between Atlanta and Dallas, Stiles' phone gave out.

_Damn phone not NOW!  Why didn't I fly an airline with wifi?_

Stiles spent precious minutes of his very tight connection in the Dallas airport looking for a place to recharge it. 

_Note to self: ask for better phone and data plan for Christmas._

He had 10% power when his flight was called for final boarding, and the gate agent's glare was like a powerful hand peeling his fingers off the phone.   
  
"Airplane mode, yessir," he whispered and grabbed his ticket back. 

As the airplane door closed, he realized he'd left the charging cable in the terminal.  He sank into the seat, his stomach responding to his mournful sigh with its own sad and empty growls.

***

 "Do you have time to come in, or do they have you doing events all day?"

"I have a little time; I was hoping to find Stiles and invite him."

"He's gonna be really sorry he missed you.  He's your number one fan in this town.  Why don't you come in and we can talk?  At least I can tell him _I_ met you."

"That would be… you're very kind," Derek said nervously.

***

"I've bought that boy every DVD of the movies you did – made him buy the blu-rays with his own money – along with every comic, every game, even the action figures."

Derek was shaking now, a combination of a long week of work, a strong cup of coffee from the sheriff, which he drank way too fast, and the growing understanding of just how much this kid loved him – told to him by the father of his crush.  He nearly dropped the mug after draining it a second time.

"You okay?" the sheriff asked.

"Premiere night.  It's always scary.  You never know if people will accept you, or like what you've done."

"Yeah, but there's a built in audience by the time you get to the end of a series, right?"

"It's like dating.  You know people like you, but when it really matters… " His voice trailed off as the sheriff eyed him.

"I feel like a suspect.  You'd play a good cop on TV," Derek said, dying from the effort to make small talk.

***

Stiles raced through baggage claim in San Francisco and skidded to a stop at the ground transportation board.  Only one line ran up north, and the first bus left at 6:00 am, the next at 10:00, leaving no time to get his phone charged. 

He found the last payphone in existence and tried making a collect call.  It was only after pushing the button several times that he saw the phone cord was missing. 

"FUCK!" Panic was setting in again, and he had only a few pills in a travel container.  He took out Derek's letter and read it again and again.  _He's there.  He did this for me.  He got my letters.  God, he got my letters.  We need to talk.  He signed it 'your friend'!  We really need to talk._   Paradoxically, the letter's distractions calmed him.

Stiles ran outside into the wet, gray morning and looked for the bus.  It was idling at the stop and he hopped on.  It sat there till well past 6:15, despite his angrily tapping the window and gesturing to the driver.  The driver was happy to get rid of him a few hours later, slamming the bus door behind him.

***

"So Stiles wrote you a lot?" the sheriff asked Derek.

"Once or twice a year, maybe, and around every movie.  He's seen them-"

"He's seen them a few hundred times each and can recite all the dialogue. He does a terrible imitation of your voice," the sheriff replied.

Derek smiled at the thought.

"But look, I'll keep trying to reach him; you need to get on with your day, I need to get ready," the sheriff said.

"You're coming tonight, as my guest, sir."

"I – yes, I will.  He'll kill me if I don't."

Derek stood up and shook the sheriff's hand.

  
"I wish he could be here," Derek said, and the honest sadness caught the sheriff's attention.

"You really took an interest in my son."

  
"We have a lot in common, Stiles and I."

"Oh, I doubt that.  His life is pretty crazy.  His friend Scott, …"

"The one with the mental problems?" Derek asked.

"Mental problems?  Oh, right, yeah, well, you could certainly call it that," the sheriff laughed.

A car honked outside.

"That's for me," Derek said. "Thanks for everything, and if you get in touch with Stiles, tell him I'm sorry I missed him."

***

 

 

* * *

  **Premiere Night**  


* * *

 

 Derek went by Stiles' place one last time that evening, ducking out of a press event against Michele's wishes. 

Stiles was not far away, stuck in the back of a taxi, making life hell for the driver.

He was in town, at long last, and the traffic was horrendous.  As they approached the movie theaters, it slowed to a crawl.  Searchlight beams swung through the air and Stiles just _knew_ Derek was out there somewhere.

"Can you go some other way?" he whined, fidgeting in the back seat.  The box of donuts he'd consumed was clearly a mistake he'd pay for.

"The GPS says go this way, I go this way," the cab driver said rudely.  "Never picking up a long haul again," he muttered.

"Okay, look, if you turn here, it's faster.  Trust me, I grew up here."

  
The man made a begrudging effort to move across a lane and turned slowly onto a side street.

  
"NO NO NO, stop!" Stiles yelled as the 50-foot high banner of Derek Hale came into view through the back window.

"Go, stop! Turn, don't turn! You're in town now – you can walk. HEY YOU-"

Stiles was already out of the cab and climbing onto it.  He ignored the driver as he hopped up to the roof to see over the crowds.  There was a red carpet and more press trucks than he'd ever seen.  There were police from out of town helping his dad, he guessed, because Beacon Hills never had this many cops.

"You get off my car!" shouted the driver, reaching for Stiles' legs. 

"Okay, okay, getting down.  Take me to my place."

  
"I don't take you until you apologize.  And I add $50 for car wash."

"Fifty wha?" Stiles was astonished.  "A car wash is $25 tops."

"You walk."

  
"Okay, okay add the fifty, just drive!"  He slammed his door shut for emphasis, slumping in the back seat.

***

At his house, the driveway was blocked by a black SUV and the cabbie honked repeatedly.  Stiles tumbled out of the cab and rushed up the front walk yelling "Dad! DAD!"  He fumbled with the door and burst in.   "Derek's here!" he yelled, breathless.

"Stiles?!" How the hell did you get-"

"Derek's here!" he said again, not sure the message was getting across.

Stiles stared at his father as if it was the chess board and the wolves and the kanima all over again. 

"Yeah, I know!" his father said, looking aggravated.

"Hello, Stiles."

***

The room skipped, stopped moving, then spun forward.  At the eye of the storm was Derek, calm, grinning from ear to ear, his hand reaching out.

"Son?" His father's voice sounded worried, and the room was getting dimmer. "He gets these panic attacks," the sheriff said.

Derek stepped forward and took Stiles' hand and smiled.  He pulled Stiles into a hug and whispered, "Don't worry, I didn't tell him anything," and winked as he pulled back.  Stiles focused on the words and was able to breathe a bit better.

"How did you do that?" the sheriff asked Derek, impressed.

"Gave him something worse to worry about than meeting me."

"I- I have to get downtown to the theater," the sheriff said. 

"I'll bring him with me," Derek offered.

"Ooo-kay," the sheriff said, unsure.  "You all right, Stiles? Really?"

"All good, dad," he gasped.  "Oh, Dad, there might still be a really angry cab driver out there, but I paid him with the credit card.  And I'll help with the bill."

  
The sheriff sighed and rubbed his face.

"Like I said, sheriff," Derek added quietly.

***

"You're here!  In my house!"

"I'm sorry I didn't get the news to you sooner."

"I don't care! You're here.  I'm here!  Derek Hale is in my house!" Stiles gushed.

"Just call me Derek.  I'm just a normal guy."

"And I look like crap.  I haven't slept or eaten any healthy amount in 48 hours. I haven't shaved, I haven't showered in … god, I stink."

"You look great.  But maybe not premiere-night great.  You have about twenty minutes to get ready." 

Stiles turned to dash up the stairs.

"And keep the stubble.  It looks really good," Derek added.

Stiles stopped and turned back, his mouth gaping.

"No way am I that lucky."

"We can talk later.  Go get ready.  RUN!" Derek practically shoved him up the stairs.

"Get ready?" Stiles gulped.

"You _are_ coming to my movie premiere, aren't you?  That's why you got home so fast, right?

"I did it to see you, you know, to be … perfectly honest. It was just you."

"Well, my bosses would like everyone to see me, so go now.  Fifteen minutes."

***

Derek shepherded Stiles past the press and into the green room, which was the theater manager's office and reeked of popcorn oil, but there were so many other actors crammed in there who wanted to meet the reason they were in Beacon Hills that Derek barely got a word in.  He finally nodded for Stiles to follow him down the hall into the main theater. 

Derek walked up and up the stairs, all the way to the back row against the wall, where they sat next to each other for the rest of the evening.  They annoyed the rows in front of them by whispering to each other through the entire movie.

Derek leaned in close during the first big fight scene.  Stiles expected to hear a tidbit of movie-making info from an insider, but Derek was pressed for time.

"I have to be back in LA tomorrow and the premiere's next week, then London and Tokyo," he said softly.

"I can't go with you, I have finals," Stiles replied.  "And that is the most pathetic thing I've ever said.  I'm so sorry you had to hear that."

Derek leaned in to whisper in Stiles' ear again.  "I'd like a chance to tell you what your letters meant to me."

"Sure, yeah, okay," Stiles stuttered out.

"And are you still looking for a boyfriend?" Derek asked, undeterred.

"Wha-?" Stiles turned to look at Derek.

"You wrote that in your last letter."

  
"And you wanna know because-" Stiles asked warily, his eyes locked with Derek's.

There was a brief, tense silence, then screams throughout the theater as the wolf-monster attacked.  Stiles' eyes flicked to the screen as he watched Harley Graywolf rip out a hunter's throat. 

Derek leaned further in, his mouth near Stiles' ear again.

"Because I'd like to audition."

"Who knew _corny_ was such a turn on?" Stiles said, whispering loudly over the dramatic music.

"That was about a thousand times easier than I thought it would be," Derek replied, now grinning from ear to ear.

"Well I'm easy. I mean, not 'easy', but-" Stiles fumbled for the right words.  "Can I kiss you?" 

Derek didn't pull back; he just pressed his cheek against Stiles' face.  He could feel Stiles' lips moving down along his jaw, finding the way to his mouth. The kiss was long, slow, and came with a soundtrack, courtesy of the movie they were ignoring.

Stiles broke it off first, leaned his head against Derek's shoulder and was asleep in half a minute.  Derek took Stiles' hand and kissed his head as Stiles breathed deeper and more slowly.  They stayed that way to the end of the movie and for better or worse, were noticed by more than a few people as the lights came up. 

* * *

**A Week Later**

"My roommates call me 'Red' now," Stiles complained.

"Red Riding Hood?" Derek asked, hoping he was wrong.

"Red carpet.  They all want autographed pictures of you, too.  Look, forget them.  You're coming for Christmas, right?"

  
"I wouldn't miss it.  Is your dad okay with me – with us, you know?"

"I'll tell him.  At least you aren't a real werewolf – he'll be happy about that."

"What?"

"It's not my dad I'm worried about.  You still have to meet Scott."

 

 

THE END

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I had a blast with this challenge. I took it on thinking "okay, I have time to do a 1K fic for an exchange" and it turned into a 10K monster. Written for SensiblyInsane28 (@AO3) as part of the tw_holidays Teen Wolf Holidays 2013 fic exchange.
> 
> Beta: afg1@LJ
> 
> Wonderful artwork: colls@LJ (- who volunteered it! I love you!)


End file.
